The one that stays
by J.A.Kishu
Summary: He can say good bye. He can jump. He can fall. He can land, break every bone in his body and he can die. But the one thing Sherlock Holmes can never do is leaving.
1. Dead but not leaving

**The one that stays**

 **Chapter 1: Dead but not leaving**

He had never believed in god, this almighty being in heaven. The thought about a man and you have to say man as everyone describes him as one, who dictates your fate. He never liked the things the priest told them in church and every time he tried to tell their parents that there is no god, they dismiss him. Mycroft told him one day it wasn't about prove that there is no god or that there is one. If you could prove that there is a god you would destroy the whole concept. It´s all about believe and they both don't have that kind of believe, their parents do and it is not their call to take that away from them.

He stopped questioning god and the church; actually he ignored the whole concept until now. Because right now a god would be a good thing. Right now he needs a miracle. Standing at the edge of St. Bart's hospital roof and looking down in the frighten face of his friend. He is frightened and he has every reason to be, because his friend is on his way to jump down that building what will kill him.

If Sherlock could think of another way to end this without jumping, with John alive too. He would choose it. Whatever would be taken instead? He could live without most people in the world. He could not live without John. Not jumping means losing John and without him there was no need to stay in this world. He wasn't strong enough to survive a world without his friend, being alone again. But John, he was strong and brave. He was a soldier and he will survive. It is a bit unfair of him to let him alone but he will find someone new.

"Good bye John" _I´m sorry. If I had another way I would chose it. I hate to let you alone. Please forgive me._

Sherlock opens his arms and takes the last step into the abyss. One of his last thoughts was that it wasn't that high, he could survive. The last thing he saw was John´s eyes pleading him to stop. Sherlock had to close his eyes he doesn't want that to be his last memory.

In the last moment of his fall, of his life he visits John´s wing in his mind palace. To find a relaxed John sitting in his chair by the fire and enjoying a quiet evening.

* * *

Sherlock woke up. He woke up on top of the roof from St. Bart's and something was wrong. It was night and a pale moon was up in the sky. It was wrong for Sherlock to wake up, because the last thing he remembers was jumping down from this roof, to his death. He shouldn't be able to wake up or sleeping on the roof.

He sits up and looks around. Even if he hadn't jumped someone must have come up here to get him down. John. Sherlock looked around but couldn't find him. John had watched him he would have come up here to get him down. Where is he and where is Moriarty´s body. He shoot himself right here in front of him. He should lay here except someone took care of his corps but why was he here? Sherlock touches his face and head with his hand to search for any injuries the impact on the ground could have had. Nothing. His arms and hands look fine too. He could move his toes and feel the muscle under his skin move. He was fine, he couldn't have jumped but he remembers jumping, remembers John. He needs to find John, what if something happens to him.

Sherlock stands up and feel the first time a new weight at his back, maybe that´s where he met the ground. His hands wander up under his coat to feel for injures but there was no pain no blood, broken bones or anything else just an unfamiliar weight that doesn't feel wrong but new. He moves around and hears a soft swishing sound and turns around but nothing was behind him. The noise continues but stays out of sight. "Oh come on, whoever you are show yourself, I don't have time for this kind of games." No one answers but as he stops moving the noise stops. Sherlock still hasn't found the source for the weight and his shoulder starts to each as if he would crump some of his muscles in an untrained way. He puts one of his hands on his shoulder and there it was something that shouldn't be there, something soft, something living.

Sherlock pulls his hand away and waits but nothing moves. Slowly and carefully he explores his upper back until his finger touches the soft, living thing again. Now, after touching it probably he can tell that it was something like feathers. He looks over his shoulder and sees in the light of the city and the moon two black wings. Sherlock stops breathing. There are two black moving wings attached to his back. To his shock he is able to feel them now, as part of his body like his arm or leg. The wings were part of his body and he couldn't understand how that had happen.

The winged detective sits down to think, whatever happened that was nothing he had expected. Think Sherlock. And he did. Nothing in his mind palace was helping, of course he found things form the Bible, church and his parent´s education but nothing explained why he had a set of wings and was sitting on top of a roof after committing suicide. That was the only thing he was sure off, he jumped and died like Moriarty had planned it.

With one hand he pulls one of his wings closer to look at it. They weren't black like he thought in the first moment, they had the color of the night sky, midnight blue. Smiling a sad smile, his brother had called the color of the night sky like that as they were children. He used to tell him stories about it and he loved them at night when he couldn't sleep. Once they tried to count the stars but there were far too many for it. Sherlock looks up to the sky, the lights of London prevent him to see more than a few lonely white points on the sky. But that wasn't important he needs to find John.

Sherlock stands up, ignores his wings or what he was right now and walk to the door, he also doesn't pay attention to the suspicious dark spot on the roof. He doesn't care for the blood Moriarty had left behind.

He walks off the roof and comes to stop by the door. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the handle with his hand … and his grip closes around nothing. He couldn't feel the different between air and the door handle. His hand just goes through it. So he was dead after all. His remaining presence in this world was still unexplained but hat least that was solved, he was dead.

Accepting his fate Sherlock takes a last breath (does he need to breath?) and steps through the door. Nothing happens with him, he stands in the stair case and makes his way downstairs. The door downstairs to get out was as solid as the one on the roof for him. Standing in the middle of a street with huge wings seems no one to bother, because no one sees him. The people walks pass him without looking or getting out of the way, some walk through him. There were only a few to the late hour but a man with giant wings would jump into the eyes of everyone. People can´t be that ignorant. So he is dead, can walk though solid materials and is invisible. His day is getting better with every second. Taking a cab was out of question now so he starts to walk to Baker Street, where he will find hopefully his friend.

During the long walk Sherlock tries to avoid walking though people it feels wrong and it somehow feels strange a bit, not that he would really feel something like a touch … he wasn't sure and doesn't want to explore it further, maybe later in an experiment. His wings were a different story, while walking down the streets he tries to flap them or move or do anything useful with them but it was different to feel a new limp and use it probable, he guesses he has to learn to use them like a baby learns to walk. "Stupid wings." They were huge, heavy and in the way. But flying was out of question, Sherlock would never use them for flying. Just because he has them doesn't meet for him to use them.

He arrives at Baker Street and hesitates. Will John be able to see him? Can he touch his own door? Will he be alone and is Mrs. Hudson alright? He wouldn't get answers without more information so he steps up the three steps to his door and walks right through it. A bit sad about the fact that he can´t touches his own home he climbs up the stairs and walks through the door to his flat. To his surprise he finds a chair blocking the door form the inside. That must be John´s doing.

The flat was cold. That was the first thing Sherlock notice, cold and bare any live as if both resident have vanished. Not just the one. Thinking of it Sherlock wasn't sure it was the night of the same day. It could be days later. Slowly after checking every room he walks up to John´s room under the roof. In his attend to know he had forgotten about the not toughing thing again, he stumbles right into the room.

There he was John Watson, his brave soldier sat on his bed tears in his eyes and looking into nothingness. It breaks Sherlock´s heart to see him like that. Of course he had thought for a second about what his death will do to John but still his tears were worse than anything he had expected.

"John?" Sherlock tries but there is no movement that indicates that John had heard him or could see him. Sherlock knees down and places his hands on John´s leg, not that he could touch them but he holds them in the right position. "John, I´m here I didn't leave you. I never will." But John couldn't hear him. He still looked right through him. "Please John, don't … just don't." Sherlock wasn't sure what exactly should John not do but right now it was pretty clear that whatever decision John would take this second it would be the wrong one. Sherlock sat back on the floor, but keeping one hand on John´s leg, watching his friend´s silent tears.

* * *

The sudden movement from John came to a surprise for both of them. John seen to be awake again, out of his grieve-frozen state and was looking for something in his nightstand, something that could only be one thing. His gun, the gun he had tried to hide form Sherlock and given up after Sherlock knew the hiding spots before John had even thought about them.

"Oh no John. NO. You will not do that to yourself. You will not kill yourself. Look at me. You get stupid useless wings when you do that." But John doesn't listen, without hearing Sherlock´s voice it wasn't even ignoring, he couldn't hear Sherlock´s pleading voice. "John please, I tried to save you, don't do that."

John had his gun in his hand placed in his lap, sitting on the bed again as if he waits for something. "No John. I didn't die for you so you could follow me the same day. You stop that right now." John´s hand begins to rise, the one with the gun and Sherlock´s only opting was to hold it down. "NO" He shouts a throw himself on the gun. To his endless surprise the gun stops. John looks as if he would hesitate, as if he was holds back by Sherlock. Sherlock didn't care what happened or how he concentrates on the one thing: KEEP THAT GUN AWAY FROM JOHN.

They stayed like that, John with half risen gun and Sherlock with his hands on the gun pushing it down with all his strength. The room was filled with Sherlock´s unheard words that he shouts and whispers at John do stop it.

"Please don't."

"I shouldn't have let you alone."

"I´m sorry."

"Don't do that."

"What uses does it have when you die too?"

"I jumped for you. Could you at least try to understand why I did it. To save you, so stay alive."

"Please John. I´m sorry but don't go."

"I will never leave you so please stay."

* * *

As the sun rises John looked up and Sherlock thought for a second that his friend would see him but John looked away again, at his gun. "Another night I guess." Sherlock breaks down as John stands, tidies his gun away and leaves for a shower, with an empty look in his eyes. Sherlock was sweeting and feeling more tired than ever before in his life or death in that case. It had cost him everything to keep John from raising the gun closer to his head. Thinking of what nearly happened and what would have happened if he hadn't shown up in time Sherlock felt sick and get up, ignoring his tired limps and the useless wings and hurries to find John. He wouldn't let him alone again. Never.


	2. The only way he knows how

**Chapter 2: The only way he knows how**

Sherlock was never bored anymore. That was good in one way because he had no idea how a dead person can entertain itself. He couldn't read books, except John read them what he didn't do since Sherlock is he constant companion.

He couldn't solve cases because no one would hear his solution and he couldn't let John alone. Who knows what the ex-army doctor does in the time Sherlock is gone. Lestrade came by every few days, ask John out for a beer or just sit with him and talk. Most of the talking was on Lestrade´s side. John just sits there and waits for the evening.

There was no violin or experiment to distract him. He was always next to John without a second of break. Even Mycroft came and Sherlock saw the grieve in his brother´s eyes, he wears his mask but it was too deep and Sherlock could see that his brother had shed a few tears for him. He tries to talk to him but Mycroft couldn't hear him. No one could.

Mrs. Hudson finds daily new reasons to come upstairs and stay as long as John would take it but even her tears didn't work and after a while she is thrown out. Sherlock couldn't be mad at John for being rude to her. He was often more than rude to their landlady. And now he misses her tea and the small talk she brings to their flat.

Sherlock and John had developed some kind of routine. John would get up in the morning, have a shower, breakfast, go to work, come home early, have take away, drink alcohol until late go up to bed, take his gun out and sit there until the sun raises. Sherlock follows John everywhere, watches him shower (yes a bit creepy, but people had slipped and slice their wrist in the shower, he wouldn't take the chance), watch him having breakfast (talking to him to eat more, drink more), follow him to work (checking every street they cross, trying to keep him away from the train tracks), watching him working, emotionless. Sherlock follows John home and talks to him, he continues talking at home, about food and sleep. John has his dinner and starts drinking alcohol, Sherlock asks him to stop but John drinks until he decided to go to bed and Sherlock is busy holding down John´s gun to the next morning.

"John you can´t live like that." Sherlock and John were on the way to work. "You know that this is not healthy." Sherlock looks to his left and right to make sure when John crosses the street he wouldn't run over by a car, because he wasn't really looking. "You could at least try not to die every second of the day." Sherlock was exhausted, he didn't miss sleep but holding the gun down takes all his energy and he has no idea how long he will be able to do so. "Even Mycroft is worried about you, Mr. Ice-man. That should tell you something." Sighing Sherlock walks through the door. "I find a solution." He was talking more to himself but he got used to that.

He could say everything out loud; no one hears or listens to him. It clears his mind a bit but he still needs a solution. It was like John slips back to the point before meeting him. Sherlock had seen it on their first day together, the thought of the gun at home but after the chase, the running, the dinner and the adrenalin he had cured John from thinking about the gun. "I need something, no someone like me." But where should he find someone like that, John doesn't even notice their friends how should he bring him to find someone new.

Sherlock starts to look at the people around them more closely; he has now not only the job of preventing John from dying but also to find something for him worth living. "You could date someone. Someone special, there are many single women around you and I won´t be there to chase them away." John doesn't look at pretty ladies anymore, not like before.

When John has no work he visit Sherlock´s grave and that was the only time he let him alone. For some reason he doesn't want to know what his friend tells his gravestone. Sherlock hadn't seen the grave, it freaks him out. In the time John was by the grave he tries to get his 'stupid' wings to work. He doesn't want to use them to fly but he would like to fold them or pull them closer to his body to have more freedom to move but the wings do what they want.

John would collect him at the gate without his knowledge and they would return home. In a cold flat with the daily fight of life and death.

* * *

"John what about her, she is a single mum, has two …no three little girls, is assistance in a lawyer's office." Sherlock pointed at a young woman who was getting her coffee.

He had started his plan 'Finding a wife for John' a week ago and would point out women he doesn't find completely boring. Not that any of them had the potential to replace him but where does a dead man find the perfect woman for a man when he can´t let him alone for ten seconds.

Sherlock sighs. "Okay John how about her." He points at a woman which is sitting in front of him in the subway. "She looks nice, genetic speaking. She works in some kind of child care center, is divorced and looking for something new." John ignores him and the woman. "You could at least look for a second." He is getting a bit angry at his situation. This not hearing thing isn't helping. Why he was in his current situation was a myth for him anyway. He still ignores his wings and the whole ghost thing but he hadn't found a better explanation for his situation. The thing that really strikes his nerves is that he is sure that he had seen people like him, people with wings that follow humans out of the corner of his eyes but he can't see them probably. They are like shadows vanishing when he turns to them.

Trying to cast these thoughts away Sherlock stared at John again, he did nothing else these days. Staring and talking at a man that couldn't see or hear him. "You know John I´m right in front of you and I miss you."

"I need a list of characteristics your new partner should have, alright?" John didn't answers. "You need someone dangerous that will force you to question yourself. You need a beautiful woman that can make you laugh. Someone that will hold your hand while walking, wake you out of you nightmares and push you into life without ever hurting you. A woman who wants to start a family … maybe." This was the first time Sherlock really thought about family. It is often said that a child could change a man, a father. A father would does everything to protect his child. That would mean living for it. John needs a family, not some replacement for him or a girlfriend, no he needs a family. "John I will find you a family." For the first time since his death Sherlock sounds hopeful that everything would be alright.

* * *

He didn't know it would take him a whole year to find the right one.

The right one was Mary. Beautiful, normal looking Mary, with her aura of mystery. Sherlock looked at her and new she was the one. It took him a week to finally understand what she was hiding but she was the right one. She wants a normal life after the dangerous she had and that was the right woman for John. Someone dangerous, strong willing and future oriented. Only problem was that John hadn't looked at her since she started her job in his clinic as a nurse.

Mary had more than one shift with him together already but he doesn't look. He was still in his own world and although Sherlock was happy that he had at least an impression by one person he can´t let his friend continue to suffer due to his death.

"Okay John, you want the hart way. You get the hart way. You made the decision don't complain later." Sherlock hat talked to John about Mary since the day he first laid an eye on her and John wasn't listening. "Have fun with the awkward way to meet someone new." And with that Sherlock pushed a chair forcefully into John´s way. Into John who was reading a patient's file while walking with a coffee from the cafeteria in his hand.

* * *

John hadn't seen the chair and later, thinking about it, he was sure it shouldn't be there but he crushed into it anyway, stumble to his right and losing the coffee he got a minute ago. A very hot cup to its lack of milk and it´s whole contain splashes on some poor nurse´ s uniform.

"I´m so sorry. Oh god are you hurt, sorry I didn't look." John starts babbling and stops first as the nurse starts to giggle.

"Oh sorry Doctor, I´m not hurt but I have to change my clothes. That´s a bit inconvenience but I´m sure you will make up for that." John surprised by her giggle that he likes instantly looked up and meet her eyes for the first time, blue beautiful eyes and he couldn't remember her name. She must be the new one, because he was sure he knows the names of the other nurses. At least he hopes so. He hadn't spoken to them except during work.

"Yes of course." John was stuck what does she want?

 _Invite her to a coffee._

"Would you like to go out for a coffee after our ship?" He has no idea where that thought came from but he hopes it is not too much, maybe she means something else.

"I would like to but this time I would like to have my coffee in a cup." She winked at him as she goes to the changing rooms. "See you after the shift."

"See you." Waving John needed another thirty seconds to notice that there was still a patient´s file on the floor, next to a chair and the rest of his coffee. He gets someone to clean the hall, collects his papers, places the chair to its proper place at the wall and continues his way to his office.

Without coffee but with a date on the afternoon.

* * *

"That´s the way John, finally listen, if I had known that I have only to throw furniture at you I had started that months ago." Sherlock was proud at himself for ones. The whole being death thing was slowly making him insane. Not the same insanity like from being bored, another kind, the one when you talk and no one hears you. A bit like schizophrenia only the other way around. He was the person in someone's head and that person takes his medicine and can't hear the voice anymore.


	3. Another lost

**Chapter 3: Another lost**

Without notice by anyone became Mary a part of his live. John would go out with her for Lunch when they have the same shift, have sometimes coffee or dinner. Than the date nights begun. Mary had many ideas to spend the time together. Of course there were the typical things like cinema but she also introduced him to night swimming in a pool (the owner let a fake night sky appear), paint ball (they were both far too good at it) and the ballet. First John couldn't imagen that he would like it but after Mary told him what was behind the easy looking movements he watched it a bit more open and enjoyed it. The music was a small reminder of Sherlock but it was the part of Sherlock he like to remember, the evenings they spend together when his friend played only for him. John had tried to find the songs that Sherlock played most often for him but he never find out their names, even after long hours of searching for it on YouTube.

It didn't take long for him to move into her flat. John was sorry for Mr. Hudson but she was also happy that he had found someone. Mycroft appears at the day of his move, he had come to get Sherlock´s things. Despite his promise to never look at his best friend´s room again he follows Mycroft and helps him in the end. He couldn't let the heartbroken brother do this alone. They both had tears in their eyes but no one mention it.

With the most of care John put Sherlock´s violin in its case, wondering what will happen to it now. "John." Mycroft´s voice pulled John out of his mind, still touching the violin. "Would you like his violin? I think he would like that." John stroke over the wood again, yes he would like this small reminder from his friend.

"Do you know the names of the songs he always played for me? I know you have surveillance in our room." He wasn't angry, the cameras and microphones had saved them before.

"I don´t know if they even have names." John looked up, confused. "He wrote them, they are his songs, he only played them for you. There are a few recordings if you are interested."

"I … Thank you Mycroft, I would love to have them." John and Mycroft continue their packing. John knows Mycroft could have asked his minions to pack but he watches the older brother and sees the same grief in his eye like his show him every morning.

It got better with Mary but there were still these moments when he didn't know how to breathe without this impossible man who had apparently wrote a whole collection of musical pieces for him.

* * *

Sherlock watches two of the most important people of his life and dead in this case. He was glad that his plan for John with Mary worked out. They moved together very quickly another good thing. Yes he will miss Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson but this flat, their flat was just an empty shell with memories from the dead. John has to move on.

Sherlock listens to Mycroft´s and John´s conversation about his songs. He had told John their names every time he tries to find them on YouTube, he told him that they weren't there but John didn't stop. It was as if he would ignore him every time they were alone. Because John listens to him. Like the thing with the first date with the coffee. Also on other occasions John did, said or asks the things Sherlock had told him but only when Mary was with him. She must have some kind of listening effect on John for voices form the dead.

* * *

You could say many things about Sherlock but he was not some creepy stalker, he was always around John and in most cases Mary too but he would also give them their privacy. (Only when he was sure that nothing would happen to John.)

The day, very special and life changing news came to their life was just three months after the weeding. The weeding had been something small. Only a few guests celebrate with them, John had invited Mycroft and he came, collected Mrs. Hudson on his way. Greg, Mike and Molly were there too. He had also invited Harry but she didn't come. Said that she couldn't take it, she was still in rehab and John was proud of her decision. Knowing when it was too dangerous to go somewhere was a good step. He promised her a dinner on her release day.

Anyway the good news came as Mary disappears into the bathroom with a bag from the pharmacy. Sherlock could have follow her but already deducing what she is doing and seeing the signs since a few weeks he knows what would happen so he waits with John on the sofa. His friend was reading some spy noble, boring, Sherlock could tell the end after the second page but only because he had missed the first to distracted with the task to secure the room. He did that out of habit.

* * *

"John?" Mary´s voice was filled with happiness und uncertainty. A normal mix of feelings for a freshly married woman who got a positive on a pregnancy test. "John." John looked up.

"Yes, sorry. Was a bit distracted, very catching this book." He had got it from her and she has really good taste in books and music and … everything.

"John I think we should start to redecorate the guestroom." A confused look from her husband told her that he didn't get it. "It needs a few new things, like a smaller bed, nappy changing area …"

John jumped up. "You … We … Are we gone have a baby?" John sounded like Mary happy and uncertain about the future but still he runs to her, takes her in his arms and lifts her up. "We will become parents, we will have a baby." Both laugh and celebrate the first moment as more than a couple, now they are a family.

* * *

Slowly Sherlock started to change his patens. He was still most times with John but when he was absolutely sure nothing could happen to the man he would follow Mary to make sure her and the baby would nothing happen. Mary talks to the baby inside of her; she always lays her hand on her belly and tells it everything, things not even Sherlock could deduce. It wasn't right to listen to these private thoughts but who could he tell it. No one listens to him, John was safe around her and so was the baby.

Mary things it will become a boy, John a girl and for once the instinct of a mother was wrong, an ultra-sonic appointment confirmed John and Mary would get a little girl. Sherlock was happy that he had helped his friend to a family and happiness in his life.

Even the visits to the graveyard became rare. Sherlock wasn't angry about it he was relieved. Relieved that his friend was moving on.

One night, Mary was late in her eight month John excuses himself and told her he would go for a walk. She knows where he is going, so is Sherlock.

In company of his invisible friend John walks to the grave yard and even in the dark finding his way without problem. For the first time Sherlock follows him a bit closer not too close but he wants to hear for once someone talking to him.

"Hey Sherlock … yes it´s me." Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Ahm … I have told you I become a father, right and with all the things that must be done to prepare for it I wasn't really often here, you know to visit." Sherlock walks around John and the head stone and stands behind it. Maybe John will look up and it would seem like he can see Sherlock. "It's a girl. I will have a little baby girl. Mary and I are not sure with the name. I´m not good with names but every name she suggest is not fitting."

John knees down and plays with one of the roses that bloom on his grave. Sherlock had never really looked at his grave and seeing it now, well cared for and beautiful decorated he nearly starts to cry too. But it is enough when John silently let his tears fall on the soil underneath his body is resting.

"It's a beautiful flower. Mrs. Hudson had told me it is from her backyard garden. She said that you liked that one. Never ask her how she knows it. A beautiful rose …"

Sherlock looked at the flower, yes it was his favorite. He never knew why but he liked it. It stood all alone in the middle of the garden, unprotected by walls and without support from a stick it grows all by itself and has the most beautiful leaves. And suddenly Sherlock finds a name for baby Watson.

 _Call her Rosamund, it's a good name but I think I will call her Rosie._

No one could say Sherlock wasn't excited about the baby; he is looking forward to it. The miracle John had asked for is this family, Mary and the baby. Everything he wants to give his friend. John starts to smile. "…Rosie." John stands up. "Thanks for listening, I know I always dictated your conversation with the skull but it helps speaking out loud. See you next time. I will introduce you to Rosie as soon as she is there."

John leaves the grave behind and walks home to his pregnant wife. Sherlock just behind him. Happy that John had heard him.

* * *

What they found at home was not a happy or sleeping Mary it was an ambulance waiting with open door and two paramedic that came out of the house carrying an unconscious Mary. John runs to them and Sherlock stops to watch. How could that happen, they were gone for an hour, maybe two not more. Mary was fine as they left. More than fine, she was happy.

Sherlock follows John into the ambulance. The paramedic told him something about Mary´s condition but Sherlock wasn't listening and so was John. Both men were concentrating on her. John holds her hand and Sherlock was in on corner of the ambulance, his wings outside and he stared at her. How can that happen? She is supposed to bring John joy in his life again.

They arrive at the hospital and Mary was taken away. Sherlock watches John crumble and breaking down in a chair in the waiting area. He could follow Mary and the baby but who would stay with John.

A nurse starts to talk to John about, asking him questions about Mary´s medical history, the baby and how to proceed in case something goes wrong. Sherlock would like to hide somewhere and scream and cry but he couldn't he had to stay at John´s side. It was his job to protect John, John and his family and he had failed them. All three of them.

Because it sounded like Mary wouldn't make it. And with her the baby. The worst was as far as Sherlock had listened to the nurse´s words, it was the baby's fault, it´s killing Mary from the inside.

The baby will destroy his plan to save John, when they both die he was at the beginning again, with the night´s on the bed with the gun, alone. Sherlock starts to cry and curse the unborn child for hurting John.

 _Your fault, I hate you for hurting John … for hurting Mary._


	4. Finding a new way

**Chapter 4: Finding a new way**

Sherlock looked down at the small human being that was cursing so much pain. It was alone in it´s bed on the newborn station. John had gone to say goodbye to Mary. He couldn't follow him to the morgue where John´s wife was waiting for him. He had decided to see what creature was able to hurt them all.

Standing in front of it doesn't make the lost better; Mary´s light blond hair was covering the baby's head. The name on the bed says 'Rosamund M. Watson'. Mary had chosen that name before they had entered the hospital and had written it down on the papers for the unborn baby. It has a name, a name her dead mother had chosen for her.

Sherlock felt another wave of anger filling him. He had never wanted to let that happen. He had searched for someone John could love, build a family and live a happy life. Not have another death that will take John´s loved one away from him.

The child seems to wake and Sherlock looked directly in John´s blue eyes. Huge, blue baby eyes that look up at him curiously, like they would really see him. No one can see him and it should not be the one that took something from John again. "You could at least look like you know that you have done something wrong."

The baby makes noises and lifts her week hands as if to reach out to his finger that stayed close to the bed. "As if you of all people could hold my finger. I can't touch a thing and I will have to hold John´s hand with the gun down again." Tears build in his eyes. He lifts one hand to wipe them away as he felt something. He hadn't felt a solid body since his dead; even the gun doesn't feel right like it wouldn't slip though him in the next second.

Sherlock opens his eyes and finds small fingers on a hand holding his finger. He could feel the warmth of the baby's body and the weak pull as if she tries to get him closer. Sherlock nearly get sick, something was touching him and it feels so real and insane at the same moment. His eyes watch the baby that was watching him.

"Are you holding my finger or did I lost it a second ago." She smiles at him and holds his finger tighter. Sherlock lifts his hand and could feel the baby´s weight, new tears fall; he hadn't thought that he had missed the sense of touch.

"Oh god, you are …" What was she? She was John´s and Mary´s daughter, he loved John and Mary too. This child was born out of love. How could he blame her for the death of her mother, she lost her too. And John? He lost his wife and has to race his daughter on his own, while grieving, again. "How could I blame you, it´s not your fault." Sherlock stokes her hair softly. "Don't worry little child I will watch over you and your daddy. Nothing bad will ever happen, I promise you this. You will always be safe with me." She yawns and fell asleep while he plays with her hair.

* * *

John came up to the new born station hours after he left his daughter in a nurses care. He finds her sleeping peaceful in her bed, a name on it told him that his dead wife had won in the name giving thing.

"You know most of the time Mary carried you she thought you will become a boy but as we got home from the doctor's appointment when they had told us that you will be a girl, she knew your name." They had many discussions about the baby girls name, John had always wanted a Charlotte or a Amelia but Mary wanted her little Rosie. She had called her that the last quarter of the pregnancy. Little Rosie.

"Hey Sweetheart, let's get you home." One of her hands looked like she is holding something.

Getting home with his daughter was the easy part. He got some information about the food because there was no milk from her mother. The nurses and doctors ask him to stay at least a night but John knew when he stops he wouldn't start again. He had to keep going.

So he took Rosie home, get a bag for both of them ready and takes a cub to Baker Street. He couldn't stay another second in the home he had shared with her. The only place that had come to his mind was this.

He rings the door bell and Mrs. Hudson opens the door. She looked at them and new something bad had happened. "Mary is ... I ... We... Can we stay here, is the flat still empty?" She nods let then in and watched the grieving father with his motherless daughter enter their new home. She knew they would stay; she never had the heart to change a thing. No new tenant would fill the hole Sherlock and John left behind.

* * *

John places Rosie in the bed he builds for her and let her go to sleep. Out of his bag he gets a bottle of whisky and starts to drink while he watches his daughter sleep. Unnoticed by them, Sherlock watched them. He had notice that John had taken the alcohol but he hadn't stopped him. He was allowed a drink.

Rosie was still holding on his finger. It had been difficult to keep up but as he had ignored the fact that he stands half in John's body it was easier. He still didn't liked the feeling of going through another body.

"Rosie I would like my finger bag." The second he pulls his fingers out of her grip she starts to stir. "Okay don't wake and please don't cry." Sherlock looked over to John who sat there with his glass of whisky and a distance look in his eyes. Sherlock doesn't want him get more distressed by a crying baby. His wing brushed over her hand as he turns and he stops as he feels resistance.

"Oh" Sherlock find the end of his wing in the tight grip of the little girl who was falling into a deeper state of sleep. Sherlock sighs. "Fine you can have this." He sits back against the wall. Keeping silent company for one Watson and invisible one for the other one.

* * *

The weeks that follow weren't easy. John does his best to keep it up for Rosie, he didn't take out his gun, he doesn't look at it. Only sometimes when he looks around the flat as if he was looking for something or someone he got the same look in his eyes like every night Sherlock had screamed at him not to take his own life. Rosie was an easy baby, at least that is what everyone else thought. What they didn't know is that Sherlock tries every waken second to keep the child happy and let her hold his wing or fingers doing sleep. Of course he couldn't stop the crying when she was hungry but John got the message very quick. The only time Rosie was really crying is when she needs food. Everything else does Sherlock, except nappy change, John shows a talent to know when it needs changing.

Mrs. Hudson and Molly, even Lestrade and Mycroft are helping with Rosie. The day John returns to work Rosie stays with Mrs. Hudson. He only works on the mornings. This first day Sherlock had to make a decision. Does he stay with Rosie, who is safe in Mrs. Hudson´s care or should he follow John to work. He decided to go with John in the end. Just because the way to work is more dangerous then sleeping in a kitchen with the smell of freshly baked bread.

Except for days Rosie is sick. After a while the child had understood that he would go with John but Sherlock couldn't let her alone when she feels unwell. He was sure John would come home at days like that. For Rosie.


	5. Not black, midnight blue

**Chapter 5: Not black, midnight blue**

 _Four years later_

John came in time to not be late for picking up Rosie, sometimes he was late and the kindergarten teacher wasn't too happy about it. His daughter wasn't the last child but the teacher wanted to talk to about something, Rosie was left back in the play room with the other children.

"Dr. Watson, there is something I would like to talk about it." She sounds worried.

"Is with Rosie everything alright." Did he forget something, did she find out about his drinking. Was he the worst single parent? These and more question grow in his mind.

"Oh no, she is fine I just wanted to show you something and would like to know what you are thinking about it." She gives him a few papers. They have all Rosie's name and a date on it. A dark figure in a black coat with black wings, like an angel.

"She is drawing angels? Why?" John was confused, Rosie never mentioned that she likes angels, they don't go to church and the black wings with the dark clothes look more out of an adult movie, she definitive is not allowed to watch.

"That's what I wanted to ask you. She said it is a secret and no one was allowed to know it." He has no idea what Rosie was thinking. "I will talk to her."

* * *

"Rosie, sweetheart, your teacher showed me your drawings." Rosie who was still fighting with one of her shoes looked up happy.

"Did you like them?" Of course he likes her picture but this wasn't the topic right now.

"Of course I like them but I would like to know why you always drawing an angel with black wings." She finally got her shoe off.

"Daddy that's midnight-blue and I'm drawing our guardian angel." Spoken as it was the most normal thing in the world.

"And how do you know how the angel looks?" Rosie looked like she doesn't understand the question.

"But daddy can't you see him." She pointed at the seat that had once belonged to Sherlock. She was focused in something that was there in her eyes.

"No Rosie I can't see him. I'm sorry." His daughter has a lot of fantasy.

"You were right he can't see or hear you." His daughter was talking, to someone he couldn't see.

"Who are you talking to?" Rosie focuses back on him.

"To Uncle Sherlock." John was shocked as far as he knows he had never mentioned the man while Rosie was in the room. Thinking about her picture they were really close to Sherlock's size, hair color and clothing stile.

"Come to me Rosie." He lifts her up in his lap as he sits down in his chair.

"Tell me something about your guardian angel." She let her head fall against his chest.

"Our guardian angel. We have to share because he was first your guardian but after mummy died he had to protect me too, so he became the guardian angel of both of us. He told me you two were friends a long time ago but he had to leave because a bad man would have hurt you. He really loves us, he tells me that every day. He says it to you too but you don't listen. By the way I promised him to never tell anyone about it but because it´s you I think it´s okay." Rosie continues to talk about their guardian angel until she fell asleep.

John relaxes a bit and after a second he gets a bear form the table beside his chair and takes a long sip. Rosie had describe Sherlock like he was once, years ago. She was talking about him as if he was always their … as if he was right beside him since the moment he had died.

"You were always here?" John had to ask. He couldn't figure out if he was crazy to believe it or just wanted to hope for one last word from his friend.

"I never left and never will." For a short second John saw the face of his friend. He wasn't drunk enough to have a hallucination and he never saw Sherlock like that. Younger then he had ever met him, midnight blue wings surrounding his body and his black coat, protecting him like an amour.

The image of Sherlock, John´s personal guardian angel disappears into nothing. Now the only one who will be able to see the great detective is the sleeping figure in John´s lab. His five year old daughter, Rosie.


End file.
